Celui qui rira le dernier
by siriusfreakingblack
Summary: Spoken as a true Pureblood princess! Bravo, milady , Sirius joked saucy grin in place. Acted as a true brute, Black. Congratulations , deadpanned the girl. That chick was putting on a show, and it seemed like she was determined to keep her real emotions to herself. Well, Sirius Black was always up to a challenge.
1. Chapter 1

-1-

Sirius Black was bored out of his mind. While this wasn't unusual, it was still quite unfortunate for he was known to act pretty recklessly when lacking of things to do. Remus would go as far as to say that he turned into a right idiot which, if he was being honest with himself, was the entire truth. Not that he was ever going to admit it to his werewolf friend. The prat was already righteous enough as he was. Besides, James seemed to think his shenanigans were hilarious and Peter applauded every prank he pulled so he really couldn't be that bad.

A smirk gracing his aristocratic features, he surveyed the crowd in search of his next victim. He soon caught sight of a puff of greying messy hair among the sea of bodies evolving in front of him. With a sigh, all of his malicious intents abandoned him at once. He had promised M. Potter he'd be good tonight. What a drag! It seemed the pureblood elite would remain unharmed and continue to enjoy their end-of-summer get together in peace. A shame really... Merlin knew how much this lot deserved a good kick in the ass. Icy grey eyes clouding in anger, he resisted the urge to pout. He was after all a manly man, and men didn't pout. He had a reputation to hold on to.

Tugging at his bowtie, he tried to remember why he had agreed to drag his feet to this hellish nightmare. He grimaced at the thought of Mrs. Potter. This woman may have been old, but she was terrifying. All she had to do was to stare down at him and he would find himself acquiescing to whatever she said. However, he had to admit that her reason to attend these stupid balls was hardly disputable. As she said; a wise fellow keeps his friends near and his foes even nearer. That's why, even though she was considered as one of the biggest bloodtraitor that ever lived, Dorea Potter could be spotted in every mundane event ever organised. Sirius found it impressive the way all the whispered hurtful comments thrown at her seemed to bounce off her as if they were weightless. He knew different.

He knew every single insult hit home and that it took a lot of willpower and self-esteem not to let them get to you. He himself had not been able to handle it. After half a decade of being called names and being considered unworthy, he'd have enough. He only thanked his lucky stars that James' parents had been generous enough to give him a place to stay while he figured out how to deal with the mess his running away had left him in. Then again, returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year gave him a reprieve that he was grateful for.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice his friend walking towards him until the black-haired young wizard was leaning on the wall beside him. James and him spent a while observing the dancing figures before the bespectacled man spoke up.

«So, how have you been holding up, mate?»

The dog animagus shrugged, his face indifferent. The truth was that he had spent a good part of the night trying to avoid an encounter with his dearest mother. Not that he was afraid of her or anything, he wasn't a coward, but he simply didn't feel in the mood for the inevitable spat that would surely follow. He had seen her briefly at the beginning of the night and a glance was all he needed to confirm that she was still the same old prejudiced hag he had left behind about six weeks ago. Regulus had been at her side and for a second the two Black brothers had stared at each other from their respective spot across the room. Sirius thought he had seen something like regret flash in Regulus' eyes but it was soon replaced by the burning anger he was more accustomed to. Apparently, some things didn't change.

«Well, you know me Prongs. I always hated those masquerades», drawled Sirius. «It's so formal; you would think people have brooms stuck up their asses.»

«At least you don't have to greet all these idiots one by one anymore», said James bitterly.

James let out a huff of annoyance that made Sirius chuckle. James usually liked these dances. He got to see some of his parents' friends that were often too busy with work to pay them a visit at the manor and he sometimes had the chance to meet a few fair ladies that acknowledged his awesomeness, unlike a certain redhead. While it remained mindless flirting, it never went very far because, to Sirius' dismay and sometimes his own, James always came to realise that his heart belonged to the stubborn girl that made his life so complicated. Sirius stared at the elitist imbeciles chatting snobbishly before him with even more contempt. Why on earth did Mrs. Potter insist on them sucking up to the very people who thought of Lily Evans as nothing more than dirt under their shoes and of his friend's family as a disgrace for the wizardry community? It made him sick.

«Who's the new bird?», asked Sirius.

James turned his head in the direction Sirius was pointing. There stood, surrounded by a dozen women of different ages, a girl of about sixteen years old. She was beautiful with her long golden mane and James remembered vaguely being introduced to her but something in her demeanor had turned him down. She was pretty yes, but there wasn't any light to her. She was dull and in his eyes that made her almost... insignificant.

«Don't really know. She and her family just moved here from France. The last name is... Er... Something like Doclay or Dorclaw?», mumbled James confusion lacing his voice.

«Deauclair?», frowned Sirius.

«That's it. Ring any bell?», said James recognition lighting his eyes.

«Well yeah, the Deauclairs are one of the most prestigious and pureblood family of France. Their genealogical tree is muggle free since at least ten generations which is quite a feat let me tell you. Even the Black can't compete with that. They're practically royalty», said Sirius thoughtfully. The boy then noticed the weird look his companion was giving him and straightened up before crossing his arms defensibly. He stared at James defiantly.

«What? If your mother had been as obsessed with blood purity as mine and had made you read _Sacred forty-six names of wizardry European society_, you would know as much as I do, alright?», snapped Sirius.

Raising his hands in surrender, James grinned, hoping to make peace with the hot-tempered boy. «Nobody's judging you Padfoot. I was just surprised, chill out», he added in a attempt to make amend.

Tension leaving him, Sirius went back to studying the frail looking girl. Unlike James, he was intrigued by her. She moved with a calculated care, never wasting energy with unnecessary gestures and always keeping her expression neutral, not to say blank. Frowning, he watched as she listened to the austere woman at her side and nodded quietly. He noticed how her hand curled into a fist briefly before she hid it in the folds of her robes. However, her apparent irritation was never reflected in her eyes so it went unnoticed by the flock of chattering ladies surrounding her. As on cue, she then plastered a smile on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Sirius' vantage point was far from where the action took place, but he was an experimented liar and he could recognize a mask when he saw one. That chick was putting on a show, and it seemed like she was determined to keep her real emotions to herself. He knew the feeling too well. Never show fear, never lose control. That had been his motto for the last ten years. Purebloods were predators. They didn't have friends, they had allies or enemies. Give them power over you and they would have a piece of your soul in their hands. Pureblood princesses usually smiled and laughed to hide their lack of substance. He was under the impression that this Deauclair girl was doing the exact opposite; she dimmed her spirit so no one would get a peek at her soul. This interested him. Was she different? If only he could just talk to her...

«Mayday, mayday! Look at what is coming our way, dammit!», came the angsty hiss from his side.

Sirius snapped his head towards what alarmed James so much. He suddenly wished he hadn't. A young dark woman was making her way towards them. She was beautiful but something about the craziness of her hair or the deranged look in her eyes suggested mild dementia and made the hair on Sirius' neck stand up. He had always known his cousin Bellatrix was rotten but seeing the smirk deforming her features now, he felt a shiver run down his spin.

«Well, well, what have we got here? If someone had told me this was a charitable event, I would have brought money to give to the poor and homeless», drawled Bellatrix, smiling in an unpleasant way.

Sirius tried to ignore the stab at his disownment and gritted his teeth to hold back the snappy remark he was dying to spit in her face. Bellatrix surveyed him calmly, waiting for him to burst. When the explosion didn't come, her eyes shone and Sirius felt James getting tense.

«Then again, they should have known better than to let lost causes in», she chuckled throatily.

Sirius couldn't resist. She had made it too easy. «Well considering that you were able to get in yourself Bellatrix, they must be pretty tolerant», he said. As Bellatrix colored slightly, Sirius' lips stretched in a feral grin. This was petty and wouldn't get him anywhere, but, man, did it feel good. After all, one should learn how to enjoy the little things. Besides, he'd endured enough of this crap. He wasn't going to take anymore.

«I see your little estrangement hasn't done you any good», she growled. «You still haven't got any manners. I really don't understand how you turned out to be such a disappointment. Your poor mother... At least, she has Regulus. Maybe he'll be able to make things right and get the attention off his disgrace of a brother. Such a responsibility you left him... Big shoes to fill... No wonder he resents you so much. Tell me, to what lengths will he have to go to make everyone forget the shame you brought to the family?»

The raven haired woman, clearly enjoying the power she had over him, surveyed his expression closely looking for any sign of weakness from his part. Determined to stay impassive, Sirius struggled to hide his feelings and tried to act as if he couldn't care less.

«How will he save the day and clean up the mess his obnoxious brother, so prone to blind the world with his doubtful opinions and his disputable choice of friends, made without any consideration for his own kin?», the girl tempted him.

Fuming, Sirius was about to retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to look at James' face. James might have been an easy-going fellow, but he was a fierce defender of his friends and glancing at his figure, Sirius caught a glimpse of the proud and honourable man his companion would surely become in the near future.

«Sirius did nothing wrong. If anything it's his so-called family that let him down. Since when is it a crime to stand for what you believe in?», retorted the messy-haired boy hotly.

Bellatrix' attention shifted from her cousin to the boy beside him. «How can you possibly ask? Sirius basically destroyed his father, doomed his little brother and broke his mother's heart», she sneered.

As she finished her sentence, Sirius burst into a fit of bark-like laugher. Concerned, James eyed him warily.

«Well Bella, if that's all you have against me then I shall sleep in peace tonight. I cannot be held responsible of the break of something that never existed in the first place. Come on cos'», choked Sirius still shaking with laughter. «You and I both know my mother doesn't have a heart. Spite is the only thing that keeps her warm at night.»

Bellatrix kept silent for a few seconds and then she smiled in a way that could only mean trouble. Her eyes roamed over the room quickly and she bent a little forward forcing James to stand back a bit so she wouldn't touch him.

«Laugh all you want Sirius, but don't rejoice too much. If you think you've won then you're a fool. Regulus knows his place and now that you're gone he'll be even more determined to prove his worth. Maybe I should send you flowers after all, thanks to you we'll soon be granted a new dedicated follower», she said smirking darkly.

Sirius' mouth was suddenly very dry. James and he exchanged a quick glance. What exactly was this lunatic ranting about?

«What do you mean?», Sirius asked, trying to ignore the gut-clutching feeling that overwhelmed him.

«Ah come on Sirius don't play dumb. I know you know. Don't worry, I'll assist Regulus in every way I can. In fact, I won't ever leave him alone. We don't want him to go down the wrong road, do we?», whispered his cousin.

«You stay AWAY from him, you sadistic bitch», snarled Sirius baring his teeth.

«Now now, Sirius calm down. Are you going to pretend you care?», said Bellatrix with deranged mirth.

Before he had the time to reply, a deep gravelly voice interrupted the argument. Looking up, Sirius found himself staring into the eyes of one pissed off Charlus Potter.

«Just what is going on here? You're making quite a disturbance», the older man said in a disapproving tone.

Sirius was all of a sudden extremely aware of the curious glances casted their way.

Facing the young witch, Charlus Potter put on a fatherly expression and added: «I expected that much from my boys, they're known to be quite the pranksters, but, my dear Bellatrix, I would have thought that a well-educated pureblood lady would know her manners».

«Well, you would know a lot about pureblood etiquette, dear Uncle», hissed Bellatrix.

The obvious jab and the apparent disgust that transpired in her tone didn't faze the tall wizard who went on smiling. «Coming from a family as respected as mine has a few ups and many lows, I'm afraid. Perfection is expected from us. It's a burden everyone bearing the Potter's name have to shoulder at an early age. Being praised and having your every single gesture analyzed by the public can be quite overwhelming and in these conditions, it's hard not to let your head inflate out of proportions» said M. Potter gazing pointedly at his son who had the grace to look remotely ashamed. Little did his father know that, by keeping his head down, James hid a smug smirk.

M. Potter's expression darkened as he addressed Bellatrix again, his voice gaining an dangerous edge while his expression remained pleasant. Sirius shuddered slightly as he realized that, even though Charlus Potter was as easygoing as his son, he still was a pureblood wizard and was therefore well versed in the art of intimidation.

«However, even though such eccentricities are somewhat endearing, let's not forget ourselves. Arrogance isn't a pretty sight for anyone and some people might like to remember their place», said M. Potter.

Bellatrix might have lost a few of her marbles, but even Sirius had to admit she was painfully intelligent. The tall woman quickly caught on the menacing undertone the conversation had gotten and, wild locks flaring around her head, she took her leave, leering at the two teenagers as she did so. As soon as she was out of sight, James let out a sigh and, grinning like the idiot he was, he pulled Sirius into an one-armed hug.

«It seems like we once again dodged a spell, my friend. No offense, but your whole family is a bit on the crazy side Padfoot», exclaimed James shaking his head in mock sadness.

«Tell me about it», snorted Sirius.

An irritated huff was then heard and the young wizards were reminded of the presence of the man who, to be frank, had just saved their sorry asses. Sheepish, they turned around and automatically turned the charmed on. Unfortunately, even though it usually worked on girls, with the exception of one Lily Evans thank you very much, Charlus wasn't impressed and the puppy eyes were met by a stern look.

«I thought I had made myself clear?», said Charlus Potter in an exasperated manner.

«Well, Dad you see», started James. «It's not like we actually wanted to see her ugly mug. I mean, I could get myself a much better bird if I put effort into it. Honestly, have you seen my fa...»

His father, knowing his son could go on for hours babbling about his so-called gorgeousness, interrupted him before it got out of hands. «James, I don't want to hear it», he briskly said.

«Mister P. I swear to Merlin, we didn't look for trouble this time. She went straight to us without any form of warning», insisted Sirius trying to get James out of the hot spot.

«Yeah, she was like an hawk, let me tell you», added James, nodding like a mad man.

«In fact, she's more of a bitch, Prongsie», answered Sirius with a smirk.

«Haha! Good one Paddie!», James chortled as he clapped him in the back.

Exasperated, M. Potter pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he known that becoming a father of two troublemaking boys would be so, well... troublesome, he would seriously have reconsidered the idea when his wife had expressed her desire to have children. As soon as the thought crossed his mind though, he snorted and shook his head. What was he talking about? James' birth was the happiest event of his entire life and even though Sirius was not his own, he would gladly tell anyone who asked that the young man was his second son. He interrupted the teenagers before they started to gain attention from the crowd again, shooed them away and, as he watched them excitedly cross the room with malicious grins, a smile graced his features. He wouldn't be surprised if, despite his warnings, an innocent bystander came home sporting electric blue hair tonight.

However, as appealing as the perspective of humiliating one aristocrat or two was, the boys unfortunately did not have access to the appropriated ingredients to brew a hair color-changing potion during the summertime. Mrs. Potter made sure to hide away all of her apothecary stock before their arrival and they still had not manage to break through the wards she had protected her storeroom with. Disgruntled, they had to settle for a less extravagant prank and before coming to the ball, they had taken advantage of M. Potter's afternoon doze to nick a few bottles of firewhiskey from his cabinet. Hell-bent on spiking the punch, the young wizards made their way through the crowd trying to be the less conspicuous possible which, given their history as pranksters, wasn't that much of a deal.

Without a word, James set off to keep watch while Sirius approached the buffet table. The animagus appraised the food displayed before him and his gaze locked on the plate of little sandwiches. Merlin, did he love those! Knowing James would keep the unwanted at bay, Sirius allowed himself a few seconds to stuff as much of the exquisite goodness as he could in his mouth. Being the great friend he was, he remembered to store a dozen or so into his pockets for James to eat later on, preferably after the feat was done. Swallowing with difficulty, Sirius went back to the bowl of punch and, with practiced ease, withdrew a hundred years old bottle of firewhiskey from the confines of his robes. He uncorked it but before he even tipped the bottle over, he hesitated. Suddenly, the thought of wasting such a fine nectar on idiots like Regulus or crazies like Bellatrix didn't seem so appealing anymore. Eying the amber liquid with envy, Sirius was seriously, no pun intended, considering taking a sip directly from the bottle before dumping it in the punch when a feminine voice interrupted his musing.

«Are you going to pour it in or not?»

The boy raised his head and was met with the sight of the lone figure of Amelia Deauclair. The young lady had silently crept behind him and now stood quietly by his side staring at him with studied disinterest. With so little space between them, Sirius could make out the golden color of her eyes glistening like light honey. The fire from the torch on the nearest wall illuminated her and tendrils of hair framing her face gleamed in the flickering light making it look like her mane had a life of its own.

«Hum», Sirius stammered rather unintelligently. His eyes quickly found James and he barely suppressed the groan that rose deep in his throat. A few feet from where he was currently standing, James struggled to escape from the death grip his great-aunt Eleanor had on his arm. From the constipated look on his friend's face, Sirius understood that fleeing was easier said than done; it seemed like the dog animagus was on his own. Sighing, Sirius turned back to Amelia noting that she was still observing him closely; she seemed to have caught him glancing at the now reddening James for a ghost of a smile graced her lips.

«I would not count on him to come to your rescue. Last I heard, Lady Burbridge was questioning him about a certain duck that would have find itself sitting on her head after someone had skillfully transfigured her hat at her late birthday party. She seemed quite adamant about finding the culprit and bringing him to justice», Amelia said softly, amusement tainting her tone.

Deciding the safest way to handle this sticky situation was to sweet talk himself out of it, he played along. «Well, she should have known better than to show up with that atrocity on top of her head. If you want my take on it, she was better off with the duck; at least people started laughing in her face instead of behind her back.»

«You sure have a interesting way of putting things», replied the girl. Turning her back to the chattering crowd, she faced the buffet table and eyed it with a speculating look. Intrigued as to where this was going, Sirius followed suit and they found themselves side by side effectively hiding the bowl of punch from view, a fact that did not go unnoticed to the young wizard.

«So», said Amelia, her hand casually hovering over the little sandwiches as if she could not quite decide if taking one was advisable. «Now, that you have been found out, what is your back up plan?»

«Back up plan?», asked Sirius, while handing her a napkin.

«When one plot a misdeed and is caught red-handed, it is expected that he has a way to get himself out of trouble», she said casually, wrapping the sandwich in the offered table cloth and concealing it in her sleeve. «Well, if he is any good that is», she added with an afterthought.

«Why, I really don't know what you are talking about milady. Have someone done anything that goes against morals? Do tell me who the miscreant is and I will personally remind him of his manners», exclaimed the wizard, hand clutching his chest dramatically.

Amelia turned her head and tilted it slightly; which, Sirius thought, would have been way more appealing if her eyes didn't appear so dead. «Denial. I see you are not new to this. Good. Unfortunately for you, Mister...», she looked at him pointedly.

«M. Black», supplied Sirius, humoring her as he really doubted this was something she didn't already know.

«Unfortunately for you, _M. Black_», she emphasised, «I am nor blind nor stupid and the fact is, I clearly saw you about to spike this drink. I am not about to let you off the hook this easily and I am curious as to how you plan to get yourself out of this mess», she told him.

Sirius helped himself to a couple of cube-like pieces of cheese and popped one into his mouth, acknowledging her with a vague sound of approval. «Admitting that you are right and that I hypothetically find myself stuck in such a situation», Sirius paused and stared at her meaningfully.

«Hypothetically, of course», she drawled in a bored manner, making the corner of his lips twitch.

«I would then be faced with two options; either dispose of the evidence or bribe the eyewitness. This is without saying, hypothetically assuming that the person that busted me is willing to snitch on me», he continued, keeping his voice even.

«Ah, this is to be considered indeed», she mused. «Let's say, for the benefit of this study of the human psychology, that the witness in question is bounded by the rules of etiquette and has no other options that to... as you said it... snitch.»

«Pity. I was under the impression said witness, even if she tried to cover it up, didn't take well to people dictating her decisions», he breathed feeling daring.

He wasn't disappointed as, the moment the words left his lips, Amelia's eyes snapped in his direction, anger flashing in their depths for a second before she schooled her expression. «It seems your impressions fooled you, M. Black. You might want to think before you babble non-sense and remember just who you are talking to», she replied with such coldness that he was surprised the punch didn't freeze over.

«Touchy subject, is it?», he dropped his voice and pinned her with his gaze. «I am the master of shut off feelings, darling. It will take more than a stoic face, a bored tone and icy eyes for me to buy it.»

To his astonishment, she didn't shy away from him or lower her glare, she stood up to him with squared shoulders. Suddenly, a dangerous smirk, its intensity rivaling with Bellatrix's, appeared on her face and the boy had to refrain from taking a step back. It was quite the transformation, but it certainly wasn't what Sirius had been waiting for. However, the weird glint was gone as quickly as it had come and, in a blink of an eye, was replaced with dull satisfaction.

«It seems like they were right, you _are_ way too hot-bloodied for your own good», she whispered softly.

«They?», questioned Sirius still shaken.

«I met your... relatives», she hesitated after thinking her words through. She raised an eyebrow at him and continued on with a sneer. «Your mother is quite opinionated. And loud. I learned more about you that I ever wanted too.»

«Then you must have been thrilled to hear about my disownment», retorted Sirius feeling oddly calm about his situation all of a sudden. Amelia's stare was uncaring and she waved his comment away.

«Well, you have been quite the disgrace», she said distractedly, busying herself with a clasp of her robes that had become undone. The insult was said in such a manner that the marauder didn't find himself offended by it. She was merely stating a fact, it seemed.

«Then again, you came to converse with me regardless of my reputation», he spoke his thought as it occurred to him.

She raised her head and nodded blankly. «That I did», she admitted simply.

Refusing to let the matter go, Sirius invaded her personal space, forcing her to look up at him. «Why?», he asked, genuinely confounded, letting his eyes roam her features in search of an answer. He practically growled in frustration when he realized she had closed off completely, apparently using his fleeting moment of fluster to gather herself.

«I was curious is all. For someone that everyone wants to forget as quickly as possible, it seems like your name is still on everybody's lips», she huffed.

«You are going to have to try harder than that», Sirius said harshly; he didn't like when someone was underestimating his intelligence and if that girl really thought she could play him that way, she was going to have a bad wake up call.

His hard tone seemed to ruffle her and for once, genuine anger transpired in her voice. «Well, maybe I simply could not bear to be subjected to M. Malfoy's bragging about his so-called worthiness and wealth for one more second. I have had enough of people thinking they can get in my good graces by flaunting their heritage in my face every chance they've got. I mean, does he honestly believe I would be fazed by him owning bloody albino peacocks?» Suddenly, she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror before lowering it to her side and closing her eyes.

Sirius found that he felt a twisted sense of achievement having been able to irritate her enough for her to drop the pretense. This was probably the closest he was going to get to her true self before she regained composure and he took a moment to observe her; hair seemingly crackling with magic, eyelids flustering and nostrils flaring slightly as she took deep calming breaths. He caught himself thinking he quite liked the agitated version of Amelia Deauclair. Everything was better than the dead air she had before anyway.

«You know», he said, not wanting her too embarrassed, «if he annoys you this much, you could tell him to go die in a hole somewhere. It's not like you're incapable of doing so, you snapped at me quite well just now», he smiled. «In your defense, I was being some jerk.»

«We cannot all be freelancers, Black», answered crisply Amelia still not looking at him.

Leaning in, he brought his lips to her ear. «Doesn't mean you're not dying to», he murmured. He smirked when she opened her eyes with a start and flinched away from him, scowling. Sirius almost laughed in her face; this was so much fun.

«There is such a thing as a personal space M. Black that you do not seem aware of. I will not condone your attempts at invading my intimacy», she lectured him.

«Spoken as a true Pureblood princess! Bravo, milady», Sirius joked saucy grin in place.

«Acted as a true brute, Black. Congratulations», deadpanned the girl. She looked as if she was struggling not to put her hands on her hips in an irritated manner, a fact that greatly contributed to the boy's amusement.

«It seems like we reached a stalemate», said Sirius finally breaking the silence that had stretched between the two of them.

«It would seem so», came the quick reply. Since it didn't appear like she was going to do the first move, Sirius decided to be the one to bury the hatchet. Irking her was hilarious, but it would only get him so far and his purpose was to see what she was truly made of, not aggravated her to death. He took a step back and deliberately broke eye contact, putting an end to the staring contest this encounter had turned into. He looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at James who, backed up against the wall, was still trying to fend off his batty great aunt with an irritated air. Sirius then busied himself with the food in front of him, properly ignoring the girl standing next to him. As he doubted she was used to someone giving her the cold shoulder, he figured that giving her space was the best way to get a rise out of her. He was right, as always.

«You forgot one», she said dispassionately, her tone back to her habitual bored drone.

«Forgot what?» he asked mimicking her blank stare, honestly dumbfounded by her sudden change of subject.

«When you were telling me about your options. Your backup plans upon discovery», she added when he met her gaze, confusion written all over his face. «You said you could either get rid of the incriminating evidence or buy off the witness' secrecy.»

«Well, I could also do both I suppose but...», he trailed off, finally catching the pointed look she was directing at him from under her golden bangs. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was she actually suggesting... A smirk slowly made his way onto his face. «Let's not go ahead of ourselves, missy. I don't know what the hell you're trying to prove, but let me tell you; this stuff isn't for everyone», he mocked her, gesturing to the sadly still full bottle of firewhiskey. «I don't want to be the one held responsible for your actions when you start making a fool of yourself, only because you suddenly decided you wanted to act like a bloody big shot. I've already have enough problems of my own.»

At this she sneered. «You seem to be under the impression, M. Black, that I cannot hold my liquor», she thrust her hair back haughtily. «Now, I don't know how British witches are brought up, but in France it is expected of a lady to be able to hold her own when it comes to drinking. After all, our wine is among the best there is and it flows freely in receptions like these. What kind of wife would one be if she embarrassed her husband every time she had a glass or so.»

Stunned into silence, Sirius stared at her tensed form for a while before he shook himself out of his daze. Well, if she wanted to play it that way... «Be my guest then», he said grinning.

And for the first time that night, Amelia's eyes twinkled.


	2. Chapter 2

-2-

One could say that Lucius Malfoy was the epitome of arrogance. Well aware of his status, he never subjected himself to the presence of anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. It wasn't really that he didn't care that people saw him as a haughty and cold-hearted man, he did care, but among nobles these traits were excusable as long as the purity of your blood allowed you to act as such. In fact, being inaccessible to most was encouraged and individuals that valued their friendships above what was proper were frowned upon. Loyalty was a fickle thing and Lucius, like his father and his grandfather before him, knew better than to put all his eggs in the same basket. Family was all he respected and, since it was common to simply cast out the parents that dared bring dishonor upon themselves, he never had to associate himself to anyone whose beliefs were less than recommendable.

Power came from good reputation and it was all that mattered. Why chaining himself to wizards from lower castes, when he could obtain what he needed much more quickly by flinging around his title of Lord Malfoy than by sweating blood trying to gain a respect that he deserved by birth? Besides, nothing gave him more of a thrill then having someone's will yield under his stare; its eyes flaring with suppressed anger before lowering in shameful defeat.

Maintaining the supremacy of the family was demanding; Malfoys were always to be affiliated with the right characters; the most influential ones, whose views and goals would allow Lucius' relatives to come out on top. It was something they excelled at, but, even so, when Abraxas Malfoy, filled with pride and unusually flustered, had came back to the manor one night and told his son about his meeting with the Dark Lord, Lucius had been sceptic. He was aware that there were rumors and murmurs in tearooms about a man, a wizard whose power, reputation and ambitious deeds were of the same caliber of Grindelwald himself. Only greater. However, they were only rumors.

Upon hearing his father's excited rant about Death Eaters and Dark Marks, Lucius' doubts grew; sure he was all for an all out war against muggles and these scums of mudbloods who seemed to think the world was theirs for the taking, but to go as far as to brand himself? Malfoys didn't bow down to anyone, they didn't scorch their forearms with some ugly scar for the benefits of a man who was rumored to be unbeatable. It was gruesome, it was barbaric and above all, it was risky. What if this wizard, this _Lord Voldemort_, ended up being another disappointment? Then they'd be stuck with this undeniable proof burned into their skin, this permanent testament of their convictions displayed for all to see. How could they possibly defend themselves if they chose the wrong side of the war once the last curse was casted?

All of his hesitations, his reluctances went up in smoke, though, the second he found himself in the presence of the Dark Lord. That such an aura of raw power existed was so incredible that Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. This was it. Nothing would stand in the way for Lord Voldemort didn't care who he had to kill or torture; women and children were not safe from his wrath. With his strength and his disregard for life itself, the Dark Lord was an unstoppable force and, for the first time in his entire existence, Lucius Malfoy knew fear.

It was the price to pay to be a god among humans and he accepted it. His fear was, by any rate, nowhere nearly as great as the terror that gripped the bloodtraitors' and muggle-lovers' hearts. Soon after he joined the Death Eaters' ranks, they had started doing raids in small muggle villages, sowing death and despair in their wake. Dumbledore and some of his most trusted friends pitifully tried to oppose them, but they could do nothing against the faceless horror that overtook the magical community who, soon enough, was too terrified to even dare utter Lord Voldemort's name.

His followers' identities were kept a secret and that added to the general paranoia. Since your everyday wizards didn't know whom to trust anymore; they started to eye their own friends with suspicion. Moreover, keeping a low profile allowed Lucius to make it up the corporate ladder of the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding world. Having a few Death Eaters in positions of influence was essential to the Dark Lord's plan and Lucius was very dedicated.

The constant struggle for power was a difficult mind game and it also meant sucking up to people from time to time. Tonight's target consisted in delicate and amiable Amelia Deauclair. The girl, with her perfect manners and her angelic face, was the faultless representation of what a Pureblood witch was supposed to be. Her family was incredibly rich and the purity of her blood was enough to make any noble lady green with envy. They had been introduced at the beginning of the evening and he was determined to charm her with his wits. If he managed to do so, the Dark Lord would be immensely pleased; the Deauclairs were, after all, a legend and with their support, the Death Eaters' cause would gain heaps of credibility.

Enthralling her was be a piece of cake of course, he was known to be amazingly smooth and, at first, everything had seemed to work out just fine. She had smiled and laughed in all the right places, making it hard for him not to smirk in satisfaction, but then, just as he thought he had succeeded, she had disappeared. Pouf! For one second she was at his side, delightfully giggling, and then she was gone. In a blink of an eye. Hadn't he known the anti-disapparation wards were up, he might have started to panic right here and there.

Making his way through the crowd, dodging invitation to dance and battling with himself to keep his face pleasant, he started to look for her. Surely she couldn't have gone that far.

When he finally spotted her baby blue gown, he swore under his breath. Of course. Of all the people she could have met by chance in this sea of Purebloods... It had to be him; Sirius Black. He reached them in a record time and quickly made his presence known. Amelia's back was to him so he didn't get to see the grateful relief wash over her as he expected it did, but the furious look on Black's face made up for it.

«Ah Mister Malfoy, I thought for a second that I had lost you», said Amelia turning around to greet him with a smile. Lucius felt a twinge of irritation; honestly, if she had simply stayed with him instead of going off on her own, this situation would not have happened. He cursed women's frivolity and their airheaded behaviour, but he grinned back nonetheless.

«Funny, I thought it was me who had lost sight of you. I have been looking for you everywhere Amelia», he replied, internally seething. The nerve of her.

«Really? Why, I was here all along Mister Malfoy», she retorted. Her features had remained affable, but the sudden coldness in her eyes and the slight edge in her tone as she spoke his name didn't go unnoticed. He almost winced. What had he be thinking, referring to her by her first name? It wasn't like him to treat a lady with such intimacy, especially one he had just met a few hours ago. Apparently, she thought so too. Time to backtrack.

«I see. I might have bypassed you by mistake then. My apologies Miss Deauclair. Only, since I am the one holding this ball, your mother asked me to take care of you and I assured her I would show you round, so you understand my concern when I realized you were not standing next to me anymore. I am sorry. I did not mean to appear overbearing», he told her suavely.

«All this dancing had exhausted me and I was incredibly thirsty. I am sure I had informed you of my intention to get a drink, but of course with all this noise you might not have heard me», she replied snottily. For a brief instant she reminded him of a spoiled child. Yes, there was definitely something brattish about her, but he guessed that came with the fact probably very few dare to deny her. He almost expected her to stomp her foot and turn her head away from him in order to pout. He forced himself to stay calm. She would not get the best of him.

«That is perfectly understandable, but I am nonetheless your host and, since you fall under my responsibility, I would feel awfully guilty were you to cross path with inadvisable company», he insisted carefully, feeling like he was walking on eggs.

«How thoughtful of you. However, no matter what my mother seems to think, I am perfectly capable of manoeuvring my way across a ballroom. Besides, I doubt I'd find any disputable characters among your guest, my Lord», she smiled up at him making

Lucius grit his teeth in anger. She phrased it in such a way that contradicting her would make him appear as a fool, but, the very fact that Black was standing there, sneer in place and obviously aware of his discomfort, was proof enough that there was indeed less than recommendable people present tonight. Damn her for making him acknowledge that infuriating reality.

«Well, it is amazing what good connections and sheer daring can accomplish. Astonishing, really, how someone can get to places if he has little to no consideration for other's reputation and no respect for what's proper. Some people have no decency it seems», Lucius hissed finally allowing his disdain to show.

Black, who until now had remained silent, content with observing Lucius' interaction with Amelia, shifted and straightened; a leer darkening his traits. «If you have something to say Malfoy don't hold yourself back. Out with it», the fallen from grace noble snapped.

«Am I missing something?», asked Amelia innocently, blinking in faint surprise.

«Let me enlighten you. I assume this man has not revealed his identity to you», Lucius drawled motioning to the black haired wizard who had the audacity to roll his eyes. Acknowledging Amelia's small nod of approval he continued on. «This is Sirius Black», he spat with venin. As he had foreseen, Amelia gasped in recognition, before disgust overtook her features, her meeting with Mrs Black clearly coming back to her full force along with the woman's angry rant about her good-to-nothing son.

«I never would have thought that appearances could be this deceiving. I am appalled such a person dared enter your home without invitation», Amelia said dryly, her gaze resting briefly on Black before shifting back to Lucius. Her reaction must have amused Black in some way for he chuckled softly at her words. Throughout offended, Lucius offered his arm to Amelia which she took immediately, obviously eager to leave Black's undesirable presence.

«He must have begged Mrs Potter to bring him along. I wouldn't put it past him. The younger Potter and him are friends, you see. He probably intimidated her too, she must not have had the heart nor the strength to deny him. The poor woman is getting old, Merlin bless her» Lucius added, gloating at Black's enraged expression and tense shoulders. Without another word, Amelia and him walked away and the evening went on.

They waltzed, they laughed and they smiled profusely, all thoughts of bloodtraitors and their degrading behaviour long forgotten ; all was well.

Lucius pushed open the door from the study room, but didn't venture much further than a couple of steps beyond the threshold. The guests were long gone and the rest of the house was sound asleep. Earlier in the evening, his father had informed him of the Dark Lord's wish to meet with him once the ball was over. He had expected to find his master waiting for him, but silence was what greeted him. The air in the candle lighted room seemed to weight on his shoulders and soon a bead of sweat ran down his back. As far as his memory went, this part of the manor had never felt this oppressive, but, devoid of the usual light pouring from the mullioned windows, it lost the lively atmosphere to which Lucius was accustomed to. Suddenly, a quiet rustle attracted his attention and his gaze landed on the armchair facing the hearth on the right side of the room. The temperature seemed to grow colder for a second before a voice rung out in the darkness, its slight higher pitch adding to the eerie feel. The murmur seemed unwilling to die out, the words still hanging in the air well after they've been whispered, like the image of a flame burned in one's retina and still apparent to them even once they closed their eyes.

«Come forward, Lucius.»

Lucius obeyed, carefully navigating his way around desks and low tables, cautious as to avoid stubbing his toe against any of the furniture. When he finally reached his destination, he bowed lightly and kept his eyes on the floor in a show of respect.

«I hear this evening's little soiree has been a resounding success», said Lord Voldemort. The man's head was bowed slightly, hiding his eyes from view and forcing Lucius, who had by now straightened, to stare at his master's crown of dark locks. Had the Dark Lord consented to look at him, Lucius would have find himself transfixed by a pair of red orbs and rendered incapable of any movement, as a bird trapped by a snake's glare.

«Indeed it was, my Lord.»

«I expected nothing less from you, Lucius», added Voldemort in a condescending tone. His voice was full of malice and Lucius was well aware the comment was more of a mockery than a compliment, but, yet he said nothing. Only fool with a death wish would engage the Dark Lord in a battle of wits. «Were the Deauclairs among your guests by any chance?»

«Yes they were, Master», replied Lucius. He knew better that to question his lord as to how he had learned the arrival of Amelia's family. He had accepted long ago that Lord Voldemort had means to get the information he needed. «M. Deauclair couldn't make it to the reception as a lot is still to be done to insure they get settled comfortably, but his wife and daughter attended the ball. I took the time to introduce myself to Miss Deauclair and I thought she was charming.»

The Dark Lord let out a chuckle. «You thought she was charming, Lucius? Have you gotten tired of Miss Narcissa Black already?», laughed Voldemort before shaking his head. If he noticed Lucius' balled fists, he didn't mention it. «I can't say I blame you though. In light of what happened, a better man than you would have broken the engagement immediately. Apparently, even the purest family aren't safe from the occasional rotten apple.»

«I only assumed, my Lord, that given the Deauclairs' status, you would be interested in them. I live to serve», Lucius said, viciously biting his tongue not to lash out in anger. Such an indiscretion would have him killed.

The Dark Lord met his gaze for a second and Lucius' heart stopped briefly for he was certain his master knew perfectly what he had been thinking. Voldemort smiled mockingly before his face grew serious once more. «So devoted... You did well though. The Deauclairs would be an decisive asset in the war we fight against the decline of the wizarding world. However, their departure from France was sudden and I am intrigued as to why they felt they had to move so quickly and more importantly so inconspicuously», mused Voldemort.

«Mrs Deauclair mentioned that her husband had wanted to expand his business to the British market for a long time and that, as soon as a opportunity presented itself, he seized it», provided Lucius eager to please. «Besides, they wanted their daughter to reacquaint herself with her roots. Apparently Mrs Deauclair's family originated from here.»

«No. I do not believe a word of it. It seems more of a deceit in my opinion. It doesn't fit with the information that has been relied to me and if that's the story they feed the most gullible ones with, they are definitely running away from something», whispered the Dark Lord staring into nothing. Then his eyes snapped upwards and found Lucius'. «I want you to discover what they're hiding Lucius. Once you do, I'll decide whether I'll reveal myself to them or not.»

Lucius shifted nervously from foot to foot. «My Lord», he swallowed and licked his lips. «I do not think you will need this kind of leverage with them. I mean... They are one of the oldest Pureblood families of Europe, surely they don't...»

Before he could continue, Voldemort interrupted him, looking livid. «Fool! Status and blood purity isn't a guarantee of pride and righteousness anymore. Did you already forget the Potters disaster? They, who descend from Ignotus Peverell himself, are completely blind to the menace the muggles represent! What about Andromeda Black? Getting herself knocked up by some filthy mudblood that's not worthy of looking at her, least touch her! And let's not mention Orion Black's oldest son. His betrayal and his apparent disdain with what we are trying to accomplish is inacceptable! We cannot afford having people thinking they can turn us down. I will have the Deauclairs joining me, whether they want it or not.»

For Lucius, this was the first time he got to witness his master losing his cool. Voldemort's iris seemed to glow briefly and his magic filled the room, making it almost impossible to breath. «Of course, I understand my Lord», Lucius spluttered, incapable of controlling the tremor in his voice. He was aware that color had drained from his face, but that was all he could to do not to run out of the room screaming in terror. His reassurance seemed to calm his master's temper though and for that Lucius was grateful.

«The mother would be hard to approach. She had years to master the art of masking her feelings, especially if she married so well. Wives of noblemen so important are expected to be well versed in Occlumancy; these people have a lot more to lose after all. She will be particularly cautious now, alone among the sharks, but her daughter... Her daughter is young and probably still foolish, as girls her age usually are, she may be easier to manipulate», said Voldemort thoughtfully.

«She did seem a bit infantile», agreed Lucius.

«She will be attending Hogwarts I assume?»

«Yes, Master. She will be in sixth year I believe.»

«It's a shame you have already graduated, Lucius. Having someone in the inside, watching her every move, would have been useful.»

«That is not a problem, my Lord. I'm sure my cousin will be more that eager to assist you in your goals.»

«Ah, yes. This might just work», Voldemort smirked in satisfaction and waved his hand at him in dismissal. «Well, you know what to do, Lucius. Do not disappoint me.»

«I won't, Master.»


	3. Chapter 3

-3-

No matter what people like Lucius Malfoy thought, Amelia Deauclair was not a fool.

If anything she was a cold-hearted, level-headed, analytical witch. She had been brought up so. Knowing how to please and how to intimidate was an art and those who became masters in that domain were the ones the most likely to survive while tiptoeing their way around the beasts. Witches and wizards may not have fangs, but their words cut deep. She knew when to smile, when to laugh and when to appear upset. Nobles evolved in a world where etiquette was more of a guideline than a mere suggestion. She knew the rules by heart and abided to them religiously or, more likely, had become through the years an expert at making people think she did.

Rule number one: purebloods do not have friends. It was an unspoken law that was instilled in nobles before they even took their first step.

Rule number two: never leave your heart in someone else's hands except if you've got their guts in yours.

She had understood the stakes and those were the only rules she had never meant to break. However, fate was a treacherous bitch and it rarely took people's wish and ambitions into consideration when laying out its plans. Amelia was perfectly aware she was going against everything she had been taught when, months ago, she had thrown caution to the wind and decided to let her hair down. Therefore the disaster that had taken place back in France, mere days from summer holidays, was entirely her fault. She simply could not play the part anymore; he had made it impossible for her to continue to do so. Sometimes all it takes to be thrown off the tracks is big brown eyes, boyish charm and enough determination to push through the walls. She had been doomed from the beginning.

There had been a moment when she had thought the both of them would remain sheltered from the outside world, protected by some crystalline dome in which what they decided to do with their lives was up to them. Oh... How she had wished so. However, as with everything made of something so fragile, a crack soon appeared in the glass dome and she had stared at it in horror as it slowly spread. The bubble she had retreated into, her haven, was falling to piece and nor him nor her could do anything to prevent its downfall. They had shared a glance at that point and she finally had to face what she had feared all along. There it was; in his eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. The pitying. They had held their breath for a second and then, everything had shattered and chaos ensued. Her parents made her pack her belongings the same evening. They were gone by morning.

She really should have known it would not last. Some things are just meant to crash and burn. She had been a fool then, for sure. Surely she should have known that friendship was unreachable for someone her kind. It did not lessen the pain though.

Loneliness is a terrible thing, particularly to those who have been blessed with good companionship long enough to see the fragile bonds deteriorate before them. Loneliness tears you apart from the inside and leaves you empty. Living with solitude is easy when you don't know any better. It is miserable and heavy but, going through the heartbreak that is the end of a friendship brings out a whole new level of sorrow.

Britain seemed so unwelcoming and their new house in London felt so cold that Amelia felt disconnected from the world. Left alone with her thoughts, she was assaulted by old demons all summer. Guilt as well as longing had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. It was something to leave someone behind. It was another to run away and leave a friend to deal with the mess you have made.

Not willing to face her father's stern disapproval and her mother's haughty indifference, she retreated in her own mind and, choosing to observe the outside world go on from the safety of her own room, she spent hours by the window, absently thumbing through a book she had no intention of reading. Her thoughts flew miles away and brought her back to France.

All she wanted was to go back to what she was before all hell broke loose, back when, for a fleeting moment, she had allowed herself to just let it go. Careless, reckless, keeping at arm's length the worries and responsibilities. She wanted to be allowed to forget whom they spelled her out to be and go back to who she was. The girl who had trusted him enough to laugh wholeheartedly with him.

It had started off pretty innocently, as a way to keep the memory of him alive in her head a little longer. She would picture what he would have to say about this and that; how he would scoff at the vindictive comments her parents would throw her way or roll his eyes at the people her mother would force her to meet. If she focused she could almost hear his voice in her ear, ridiculing the stiff noblemen and ladies parading one after the other in front of her and urging her to give them a piece of her mind when they, as Purebloods always did, underestimated little old Amelia Deauclair, not looking past her doe eyes and heart shaped face. After a while she did not have to make an effort to imagine his presence anymore, she felt that he was a part of her and, it seemed as if her conscience, that little inner voice she had not known she possessed, had taken the liberty to borrow his tone and inflexions.

This newfound escape was both an blessing and a curse. On one hand it was all she could do to hold on to her sanity, on the other side, having discussion with yourself could hardly be considered sane at all. Soon enough, she was completely immerged in her dream world and more often than not, it would distract her from present interactions. She would have debates with herself; going down familiar roads and re-enacting conversations that had been held long before everything had gone awry.

Amelia knew that, in the end, this self-destructive comportment would get her nowhere. It was unhealthy, deranging at best but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was surrounded by people that wanted nothing more than take advantage of her. What better way to throw all of them off than making sure that she was a damaged good by the time her father tried to sell her off to some right jerk with enough titles of nobility to be worthy of her unstained blood?

The truth was that Amelia had never felt that much rage in her entire life. Her limbs were constantly trembling with suppressed fury, an anger she knew would serve for nothing; the previous debacle was proof enough that rebelling was futile. All that was left to do was to drown the ire, numb the pain and wait. Her time would come.

Wait she did. She had gotten pretty good at shutting herself off in the past years, but sometimes emotions were inevitable. There would be times when she would have to fight off the melancholy or the sadness but, more frequently, she had to hide the irritation she felt.

And to say Amelia Deauclair was currently annoyed would have been an understatement. Back stiff with displeasure, the girl stood in the middle of King's Cross railway station silently seething.

Pureblood witches didn't usually have to exert themselves. Ladies didn't habitually have to drag their own trunk and fight their way through a crowd of overexcited boys, giggling schoolgirls and emotional mothers. They didn't sweat, they let others do so. Yet here she was, desperately trying to howl her heavy luggage onto the train, and this, all by herself. Why the British Ministry of Magic would forbid underage use of magic was a mystery to her. She nearly growled in anger. Damn that bloody house elf for leaving her to fend for herself the second they passed the magical barrier! Even though she knew her mother had probably ordered Tecky to apparate straight back to the manor once Amelia was on platform 93/4, the girl couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. That old wrinkly creature was way too obedient for its own good.

Mrs Deauclair had refused to accompany her of course. Amelia had not expected her to do so either, she had known the moment she had informed her mother of her leaving that it was wishful thinking. Marguerite Deauclair had been nothing but cold to her daughter since their departure from France. Not that Amelia's mother had ever been anything but frigid. Besides, Amelia wanted nothing to do with the woman. The past few weeks had been particularly tense within the walls of the Deauclairs' household and Amelia was secretly relieved to be away for a couple of months. Merlin bless boarding schools. At least, she would be gaining back a bit of her limited liberty.

Her trunk was halfway on the floor of the train car when someone bumped into her from behind, almost sending her flying and effectively ruining all her efforts of the past ten minutes. As her luggage hit the platform with a resounding smack, she whirled around with fire in her eyes. Unfortunately, she was faced with a mass of unconcerned strangers who kept on discussing excitedly about new owls, dreaded N.E.W.T.S and some band called the Weird Sisters without taking a second to ensure she wasn't harmed. Apparently her attacker had not deemed important to stop in his tracks in order to apologise or even help her get her trunk back on the train. Well, things were just peachy, weren't they? She turned back to her belongings cursing bootlicking servants, disgraceful brats, uncaring mothers and rotten luck under her breath.

«Need some help with that?»

Only years of practice kept Amelia from gasping in fright. A tall teenager, who certainly had not been standing in front of her a few seconds ago, was smiling kindly at her, looking at her from under his blond fringe; obviously waiting for her answer. Somehow, even with the scar that ran along his jaw line and the tired look in his eyes, Amelia found herself oddly at ease around the boy, which was a sentiment she hadn't had in a long time. Maybe it was the latent maliciousness she could sense coming out of him or the way his eyes crinkled as he genuinely grinned at her, but the overall effect was pleasant and it made her forget about his unkempt hair and the poor state of his robes. She felt a smile tug at her lips in response.

«And they say chivalry is dead.»

«Why, I always make a point to rush to the rescue of damsels in distress», said the young man bowing slightly before he swung the trunk over his shoulder as if it was weightless. She honestly had not been expecting such vivacity from him; he was not frail per se, but there was something fragile about him; he was emitting the kind of vibe one could get from a sick child. The impression was quickly quashed though as the boy sent a lopsided grin her way. Amelia repressed the urge to roll her eyes at him; he made her pathetic attempts at lifting the darn thing bloody laughable. So much for almost breaking her back.

«Oh? So you really do reach out to any defenceless girls? Out of the goodness of your heart? That seems pretty selfless. And admirable» pointed out Amelia as she followed him while he approached the unmoving train. He shot her a glance and grimaced sheepishly. He looked so much like a kid caught the hand in the cookie jar that the girl shook her head at him.

«Ah, you caught me. Truth is; I've never seen your face around here before, so I figured you were a new student and I was curious. Besides, I'm a prefect so it's kind of my job», he confessed. He chucked the luggage on the wagon floor and climbed onto it.

«And here I was feeling special», sighed Amelia in mock disappointment. She smiled again when the boy gave her a pained expression.

«I've dug myself a hole, haven't I?»

«Quite», responded Amelia chuckling softly. She had tried not to laugh but, she seemed incapable of reigning it in. Away from the oppressing presence of her mother and safe from the nightmares that plagued her nights, Amelia felt lightheaded.

The girl knew she was acting foolishly; bantering and joking around with a perfect stranger was hardly advisable given her situation, but she had missed it. She had craved this all summer; human interaction devoid of any afterthought, and she could not help the warm feeling that grew in her chest. It was something she could not afford to do when surrounded by the usually crowd that gathered around her. Acting friendly with purebloods was the same as to slash your arm open while bathing in the ocean and then waiting for the sharks to come and eat you.

_Looks like the mask is slipping, doesn't it?_

The sound of her inner voice, loud and clear in her head, brought her down to earth abruptly. It was like a cold shower and she inwardly shook herself. She did not need a repeat of what happened at the Malfoy ball. Refocusing on the boy who had helped her, she noticed his outstretched hand.

«A true gentleman», she noted while taking his hand and letting him hoist her up.

«To the core. I am a Gryffindor after all», he replied proudly. Then, realizing she probably had no idea what a Gryffindor was, he opened his mouth in order to clarify. There was no need of course.

Their moving to Great Britain meant Amelia had to deal with a whole new crowd of snakes and she knew better than not doing her homework. Knowledge was power and a pureblood always came prepared to battle. Therefore, the young witch had done her research on Hogwarts as soon as her parents announced she would transfer. She had been quite bemused by the fact students were divided into houses based on their _personalities_. Certainly people were much too complex to be categorized and sorted into four groups in such a undefined manner. Bravery, cunningness, intelligence and kindness, honestly? For someone like Amelia, to whom lifestyle had left her with no other choice than to become a good judge of character, it was evident there was much more than that to human nature.

Amelia, went to stop the boy before he could drown her with his explanations, but thought better of it and decided to let him talk himself hoarse. You often learned a lot more by listening to people talk; the way they would present something was frequently more interesting that the information they shared.

«New student, right. Should have remembered that», said the wizard as he slapped his forehead at his own forgetfulness. He stared at his shoes as he tried to come up with the best way to tell her about the houses. Suddenly he looked up and smiled. «Ok, I'll keep it simple. You see, Hogwarts was built by four founders. There was Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. Every single one of them had different opinions of what qualities theirs pupils should possess. Unable to find a common ground they decided to split the students between themselves and each head favored the children that represented their ideal of the perfect wizard.» The boy began to tick off on his fingers. «Ravenclaw kept the smart ones for herself, Hufflepuff welcomed the kind hearted ones while Gryffindor accepted the courageous ones within his ranks. Slytherin...» Hesitating, the teen frowned slightly, but quickly hid his discomfort. «Slytherin took the ambitious ones under his wing.»

«Ambitious? You are saying this as if it was a bad thing» pointed out Amelia.

«Ah? No, no. Of course not. Knowing what you want and working to reach your goal, that's admirable.» The boy, clearly feeling weary at the turn in the conversation, shifted from foot to foot. «It's just that there's a rivalry going on between houses. Nothing serious, just playful banter. Kids will be kids», he added with a small grin.

_Playful banter, eh? Doesn't it feel refreshing to finally meet someone who can't lie to save his life? _

Amelia refrained from rolling her eyes. Well, that confirmed what she had suspected then. She was willing to bet that the Slytherins' dorms were filled to the brim with purebloods. Ambitious bunch they were indeed. That was certainly the understatement of the century. If as she thought, most of the children of noble lineage ended up in Slytherin, she had no trouble imagining what other traits characterized them. No wonder blondie over there wasn't feeling so hot about them. If his torn robes were anything to go by, he wasn't raised in wealth and there was not anything Purebloods look down upon more than misery.

«Right. How do they know which houses the first years belong to though?»

«They get sorted obviously.»

«Sorted?»

«Well there this hat, talking hat I should say. It has a pretty potty mouth too.» The sandy haired wizard laughed. «You would not believe how sassy it can get when it's pissed. James said it swore like a sailor when Peter and him broke into Dumbledore's office and set fire to...» The boy trailed off when he noticed her raised eyebrow. The rest of his sentence ended in coughs. «Long story short; it has a nasty temper, don't mess with it.»

«I will try and remember that», said Amelia holding back a sneer. Boys...

«Anyway, that hat, it's called the Sorting Hat. Fitting isn't it? Well, it sort of look through your mind and figure out what you're made of.»

_Not good._

Amelia's blood ran cold. «Like Legilimency you mean», asked the young witch carefully keeping the worry out of her voice. Amelia had not control over much in her life, but she had managed, after a lot of hard work, to ward off her mind against the intrusion of people that wanted nothing more than have psychological power over her. She was not going to let a stupid hat ruin everything she had accomplished. There were secrets she'd rather keep for herself.

The boy was caught off guard for a second before he nodded thoughtfully. «Well, I've never thought about it this way, but I guess that's kind of what it is. Don't worry though, no matter what people on the train will tell you, it's not painful at all.» Not trusting herself to speak, Amelia did not answer him. Reading off her silence as nervousness, the wizard shoved his hands in his pockets, looked quickly over his shoulder before he smiled reassuringly at her, apparently having reached a decision. «Look, if you're that stressed out, just follow me, alright? There's a book in my trunk called _Hogwarts, an history_. It's really good and you'll learn more on the Sorting ceremony from that than from my half-baked explanations. Besides, my friends will be there and they are going to be thrilled to be the firsts to socialize with the new kid.»

Before Amelia had the chance to answer, a cold voice rang out from behind her. «This won't be necessary, Peterson.» Amelia didn't even need to look to guess who this was. And just when she thought life was getting a bit boring...

The effect was instantaneous. Peterson, or whatever is name was, tensed and his gaze hardened, eyes flashing amber for a second. «My name is not Peterson, Black, and you know that very well», replied the boy with a snarl. Amelia couldn't blame him though, Bellatrix Black seemed to induce various negative reactions in almost everyone she met.

«Tell this to someone who cares Peterson», drawled Bellatrix before turning her back on him and pining her soulless stare on Amelia. Unimpressed, Amelia stood her ground.

«Miss Deauclair, I have been looking for you. There is a place in our compartment if you'd consent to grace us with your presence.»

Perfectly aware she had little to no choice in the matter, Amelia nodded lazily and bid her goodbyes to the reddening boy by her side. «It was a pleasure meeting you.»

The sound of her voice seemed to wake him up and he stopped glaring at Bellatrix long enough to smile sadly at her. «The pleasure was all mine.»

«Yes, I'm sure it was Peterson», mocked Bellatrix with a nasty smirk. Then, not waiting for his comeback, the dark-haired witch started to walk down the train's alley without a glance behind and Amelia wordlessly followed her.

The train's departure must have been near because all the kids that had previously been screaming and running around on the platform were now doing the same in the cramped alley. This didn't slow Bellatrix down however; she walked steadily without pausing once as people hurriedly made room for her; flattening themselves against the wall or disappearing behind compartment doors. It seemed as if anyone knew better than to stand in the witch's way. Amelia doubted this was solely due to the Black's reputation of Dark allegiances, Bellatrix simply exuded violence as others would exuded grace; it was in her core, it showed in the way she moved and in the way she looked at people. At the tender age of seventeen, her eyes already held promises of pain and sadistic games.

Amelia had sensed Bellatrix's soft madness right away. She had expected as much though and it didn't alter how she treated the young witch; she acted the way she did with any other noble lady: with coldness and mistrust. She dealt with insanity on a daily basis, one more unhinged girl wasn't going to change anything. All Purebloods were a bit mad after all.

Soon Bellatrix stopped in front of a compartment and opened the door for Amelia, gesturing for her to enter first.

_Well, someone is feeling wary... Does she think you're going to run or something?_

_Shut your trap! I need my head for this._

_Gosh, Amelia. You hurt me. _

Trying to ignore the little voice in her head, Amelia focused her attention on the people now staring up at her. A boy with small dark eyes, ruff ugly traits and a mean smile quickly rose and hastily took her hand in his before he pressed his lips to her knuckles and introduced himself as Evan Rosier. Bending her head slightly towards him, Amelia stared blankly at him, struggling to keep her face straight safe for a twinge of disgust. The teen's lips were awfully chapped and his hands were unpleasantly moist.

«Back off Rosier. You're being overbearing. A lady needs space and I'm sure Miss Deauclair do not appreciate having your face so near hers», snapped a girl with coffee-coloured skin glaring at him from her seat by the door. She got to her feet and smiled seductively at Amelia, having apparently fooled herself into thinking she could get into the girl's good books by displaying the same charm she used to get what she wanted from hormone-driven boys. «Rosalind Toke at your service, milady.»

Playing the haughtiness card, Amelia barely spared her a glance and walked around her to get to the far-end of the compartment where, standing by the window, a familiar face was waiting for her to reach him. Tall with dull grey eyes, breathtaking looks and a snobbish air that betrayed generations of careful inbreeding, the boy was everything his parents could have wished for. «Regulus Black, Miss Deauclair. I already had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.»

«Yes, I remember it quite vividly», said Amelia. Then, just because she felt like spiting him she added: «How is your mother, Madame Black?» The woman's behaviour had been despicable at the Malfoy ball and Amelia wouldn't be surprised if one day the resentful witch drowned in her own rancor and died of bitterness.

Amelia's tone was nothing but polite, but something in Regulus' eyes made her realize that he knew perfectly well she was having a go at him. Amelia almost wished the boy would put her in her place like she suspected he would have done if she hadn't been who she was, but, like the perfect gentleman he was, he didn't act on it. «She is doing quite well, milady. Thank you for asking. I will make sure she's informed of your concern for her.»

Somewhat disappointed, Amelia nodded and turned to the others. «There is no need for all of you to remain standing. Please regain your seats.» Amelia sat by the window on the opposite of Regulus while Rosier took care of her luggage and the others got settled. The train gave a lurch and slowly left the station. As the city gradually gave place to the countryside, the busy streets morphed into deserted meadows and Amelia became engrossed in her contemplation of the landscape, paying little to no attention to what was going on around her. Then, feeling the burn of stares on the side of her face, she lazily shifted her focus on the teens she shared a compartment with. Her eyes found Regulus' amused ones briefly before she glanced at Rosier who was, quite rudely, ogling her.

«May I help you?»

«Ah, say Miss Deauclair, you probably know Hogwarts is divided by houses by now», inquired the boy.

«Yes, I was aware of that fact», said Amelia airily, hoping the wizard would leave it at that.

«In which one do you reckon you will be sorted into?», insisted Rosier.

_What is it with these people and their houses for Merlin's sake?!_

Annoyed, Amelia refrained the urge to snap. «Well, M. Rosier, I find myself quite confused. I am not certain as to which one I would rather be sorted into», replied Amelia suavely. She knew what he expected from her of course, but she was already fed up with the attitude of the whole lot: ordering her around, acting like right suck ups and asking questions they already knew the answers to, only to test her. It may be petty, but she had found out lately that making them fall in their own traps was quite entertaining and was oddly satisfying.

«What's so hard about that? I think it's quite obvious which house is the best, milady», retorted Rosier with narrowed eyes. The wizard, clearly hesitating between exasperation and disbelief, was getting red in the face as he glared at her. Bellatrix scowled at him whereas Toke paid rapt attention to the altercation and Regulus looked simply bored.

«Is it? Well, from the information I have collected from various individuals, Gryffindors are a lot of brainless troublemakers, Ravenclaws are a bunch of snobbish know-it-all, Hufflepuffs are a pack useless flobberworms and the Slytherin's house is made of back-scratching cowards. Now, either you British are horrible human beings or I have been awfully lied to, but either way you can certainly see my dilemma», drawled Amelia. There was a moment of shocked silence which the witch relished, before hell broke loose.

«This is an outrage!», yelled Rosier eyes budging out of their sockets. «We, Slytherins, are the elite of the wizarding world's new generation. We carry within our hearts the true values of the magical community and its salvation within our blood», he growled. He pulled his hair in frustration and sat by her side, leaning towards her. «Who told you these lies, milady. I will make sure they won't ever be able to tarnish our house's reputation. When you insult one of us, you provoke all of us and I refuse to stand by while you are being badmouthed.»

«While I am being badmouthed? M. Rosier, you are talking as if I was already sorted in Slytherin. As much as I appreciate your diligence, I hardly think it is appropriate», said Amelia raising an eyebrow.

«Miss Deauclair, don't you see, you are beauty and purity united as one; the epitome of what we believe in. Of course, you'll be in Slytherin, there is no other way», said Rosier having apparently forgotten he had asked her where she thought she would end up only minutes ago. He put his hand on her knee and smile shrewdly.

_Is this kid for real? _

«I would be really carefully with where you are going with this if I were you, M. Rosier. One could think you are overstepping your boundaries», breathed Amelia having finally had enough. Rosier retracted his hand immediately. «Flattery will not get you anywhere and it surely will not help you make your point», smiled the witch sweetly. Back-scratching cowards indeed.

There was a chuckle and Rosier glared at Regulus. «What are you laughing at? You, of all people, have no reason for laughing», eager to divert the attention from himself, Rosier wasted no time and attacked. «I've heard there was quite the commotion at yours, Black. Your brother finally decided to betray your family wholly, did he? How did your mother take that last blow?»

«Elated, she was. Threw a party too; everybody that mattered was there. The Minister of Magic, even. Didn't you receive an invitation?», retorted Regulus right away. Rosier frowned, obviously unable to recall this particular event. Regulus' face, which until now had remained relatively impassive, broke into a predatory smile. «Oh wait, you wouldn't, right? My bad...»

Short, devastating and to the point. Amelia was impressed, there was no doubt this kid had been taught by the best. Unfortunately for Regulus though, Rosier didn't seem to appreciate the quality of his wits as much as Amelia did.

«Why you little..», snarled the burly wizard fumbling in his robes in search of his wand. Before he could do anything harmful, Bellatrix got to her feet and pointed her own wand at the base of his neck. Rosier froze instantly.

«Enough! Get a hold of yourself, you look like a fool», Bellatrix barked. Then turning her head towards Regulus she added: «And you! If you don't want to have your head served on a platter, I'd tone it down a notch.» She went back to her seat and glowered at Rosier one last time. «If I hear you mention that bloodtraitor once more, I'll make you regret the day you were born.»

Bellatrix then turned her dark cruel eyes to Amelia who simply grinned, daring the older girl to call her out for her attitude. Bellatrix smirked. «There is no doubt in my mind that Miss Deauclair will be sorted into Slytherin. After all, the others houses are filled with mudbloods and bloodtraitors; Miss Deauclair is neither.»

_She's got you cornered, doesn't she?_

«As you say, Miss Black», agreed Amelia coldly.

The rest of the ride was eventless and spent in sour silence. A boy with greasy hair came to remind Toke of her prefect duties at some point, but other than that nothing happened. The sky was dark when they finally arrived at destination and Amelia welcomed the fresh night's air with relief before a booming voice startled her. Craning her head up, she surveyed the monstrosity of a man standing in front of her and weakly returned his greetings. The gamekeeper, as he presented himself, told her he had been informed of her transfer and asked her to follow the first years. Glad not to have to come up with an excuse to part company with Bellatrix and Co. Amelia nodded and did as asked.

Soon the witch found herself in a tiny boat, squeezed in between a boy with flaming red hair and a girl with pigtails. Halfway across the lake, the girl, captivated with the sight of the castle, leaned too far over the edge of the boat and fell head first into the water. Amelia was quick to fish her out though and, ignoring the child's spluttered thanks, she conjured a blanket to cover the girl's shoulders. Amelia had to admit, the sight of Hogwarts, illuminated and towering over them, was baffling.

Once they reached the shore, a stern looking woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, led them into the Great Hall. Amelia's eyes were immediately glued to the ceiling which for some reason seemed to be absent. How particular. A raspy voice somewhere on her left started to sing, quite horribly too, and Amelia realised with a jolt that the terrible chanting came from a battered hat sitting on a stool at the end of the four tables filling the hall. It didn't take her long to figure out this ugly piece of headgear was probably the famous Sorting Hat she'd been told about. Talk about anticlimactic.

Once the Hat was done with its singing, McGonagall came forth and started reading off names on a long parchment. Bored to death, Amelia allowed her mind to wander, only getting out of her reverie to discreetly levitate the same drenched girl from before back on her feet when the kid, apparently unable to stand on her own two feet, faceplanted on her way to the stool. After sorting the eleven year old witch, whose name was allegedly Juliet Darlings, into Hufflepuff, it was Amelia's turn to try on the talking headpiece.

The last thing Amelia saw before the brim of the hat fell before her eyes were a pair of grey iris, watching her with something akin to half-hearted hope.

_There goes nothing. _


End file.
